Thank you, and angelskky, for the favorites! I appreciate it!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Breck considered it nothing short of a miracle that she made it through the rest of the night without anyone finding out what had taken place outside the stables.

Upon returning to the celebration, and after taking a moment to make sure her clothes were in order and that the scratch on her neck from Gerland's blade was no longer bleeding, she had gone back to the table and found the men even more drunk than they had been when she had left. Thankfully, because of how busy they had been drinking themselves stupid, they had not seemed to realize exactly how long she had been gone for. Unfortunately, however, the bruise on her jaw and the scratch on her neck had been too obvious for them not to notice, even in their intoxicated state.

Per Tristan's orders, she told them that she had merely taken a tumble in the stables. Though the excuse and her apparent 'clumsiness' ensured that she was the butt of the joke for the rest of the night, nobody seemed to suspect that she was lying, not even Arthur, who had always been able to see through any lie she'd ever told him.

Tristan had returned about half an hour after she had, and by then he'd already worked up his own story to explain his extended absence from the celebration. Like hers, his excuse was accepted by their friends without question. He had then proceeded to claim the seat next to Breck, nodded at her once as though silently telling her everything was taken care of, and that was that. The night continued on with their friends being none the wiser of the fact that Breck had been attacked, nor that she and Tristan had just killed three men.

Breck left the celebration with the men in the small hours of the morning, hanging back behind the group with Tristan as their friends made fools of themselves by singing far too loudly and stumbling over one another every few feet. As much as she had been doing her best to act normally, she found she couldn't quite keep up the façade any longer and did not want to join in on their drunken antics. Not to mention that there was something very comforting about being in Tristan's calm, quiet company.

It had been a long day that ended in a very unpleasant way, and every part of her body yearned for rest…but when Breck finally bid goodnight to the men and flopped down into her bed, sleep did not find her.

For hours she tossed and turned, her mind too jumbled with thoughts to have any hope of getting any rest. Breck was simply too on edge to sleep.

It was hard not to think about the attack, especially with the pains in her face and her ribs and her neck serving as a near constant reminder of what had happened. She did not feel badly about what had happened to Gerland and his cronies – after what they had done, they had gotten what they had deserved. But thinking about the way those men had manhandled her, the way Gerland had dared to touch her, was enough to make Breck sick to her stomach. Enough to make her wish she could bring them back to life, just so that they could kill them all over again.

After a while Breck couldn't stand to think about what had happened for a moment longer, so she forced her thoughts to turn to the other thing that she hadn't stopped thinking about that night. Tristan.

She was not surprised that he had come to her rescue. He had, on his own volition, been keeping an eye on her and on Gerland for weeks now, and he had all but promised her in the infirmary that he would make sure Gerland and his men didn't get to her. They had gotten to her, unfortunately, but he had still been there to keep a bad situation from getting even worse. He had saved her.

Breck couldn't stop thinking about how utterly vicious he had been about it, though. When he had killed Gerland, he had done it with purpose, as if he wanted to make sure that the man's death was not quick and painless, wanted to make sure he suffered for what he had done. He had, in his own way, seemed almost…protective. And that alone was enough to leave her with some questions.

Had Tristan been so ruthless because he simply didn't like the thought of men like Gerland taking advantage of a woman? Or was it because he truly was a bloodthirsty brute, just as so many people in Hadrian's Wall believed him to be? Or, a small hopeful voice far in the back of her mind asked, was it because of something else entirely?

Breck also couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her when she had ended that man's life. He had seen her kill someone without so much as batting an eye, and his reaction to that confirmed to her that he hadn't thought her capable of such a thing. Though it had always been next to impossible to read the man, she was almost certain that she had piqued his interest. Breck had caught Tristan staring at her several times during the rest of the party, and though his expression had been that same frustratingly unreadable one he always wore, something told her that he would have questions for her sooner or later.

She also had a feeling things were going to be different between her and Tristan from that point on. Whether they would get better, or revert back to how they had been before reaching this tentative truce, was still to be seen.

Breck finally managed to get a few restless hours of sleep, but woke again shortly after the sun had risen on a new day. She got out of bed to use the chamber pot, washed up in the basin, and dressed for the day, then promptly began pacing the length of her room as she tried to decide the best way to break the news of the attack to Arthur. In the end, no matter how many different ways she said it to herself, Breck simply could think of no gentle way to tell him that she had barely escaped a cruel assault and that she and Tristan had killed three of the townsfolk. She decided it would probably just be best to be blunt and be done with it.

Breck stepped out of her quarters, her eyes turning toward Tristan's door. She had half a mind to ask him to come with her, but decided in the end to handle the situation herself. Arthur would likely be very upset when he heard, and she had caused Tristan enough trouble already.

She started toward the estate alone, and since so many of the townsfolk had attended the celebration the night before, the streets were more deserted than normal and the town was eerily quiet, especially so when compared to the ruckus of the night before. Most of those who had managed to drag themselves out of bed, she noticed, all looked to be struggling with a massive hangover.

There was one person, however, who looked as chipper as a bird on a bright, sunny morning – Vanora. The moment the two women spotted each other in the street, Vanora wasted no time to run up to Breck in a rush, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with excitement.

"Breck! I simply must speak with you," Vanora said at once. Judging by the tone of her voice and the look on her face, Breck would guess that the gossipy woman had a juicy piece of information to relay. "Oh, that looks frightful," Vanora commented idly as she spotted the angry, dark bruise on Breck's jaw. "Anyway," she continued, getting back on track. "Have you heard the news? Gerland is dead! His body was discovered on the outskirts of town this morning!"

Breck tensed at Vanora's revelation. When Tristan had told her he was going to get rid of the bodies, she had assumed he had meant to take them somewhere they would not be found. How had Gerland's body been found so quickly? And had the other men been found too? An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, not necessarily because of the bodies being discovered, but because she knew how obscenely fast word traveled in Hadrian's Wall. If Vanora already knew, then others probably did, too. That meant there was also a chance that Arthur already knew what had happened simply via word of mouth.

The possibility that he might already know made her uneasy, simply because she had wanted him to learn of the truth from her before anyone else. But she quickly reasoned with herself that he didn't know yet. If he had known, he would have sent someone to bring her to his estate by now – or he would have come to collect her himself. He had done neither, so perhaps there was still a chance that she would be able to get to him first.

"Breck?" Vanora asked unsurely when Breck took too long to respond.

Breck blinked and focused in on her friend again. "Aye, I know that Gerland is dead," she told Vanora with a nod, her lips pressing together tightly.

Vanora frowned with confusion. She obviously had not gotten the sort of response that she had been anticipating. "Is this not good news? Are you not relieved?" she asked, clearly at a loss. "Gerland was the man who – "

"I remember all too well who Gerland was, Vanora," Breck interrupted, her tone shorter and more impatient than she had intended it to be.

Vanora blinked, then her eyes filled with dawning realization. "You know something," she accused. When Breck said nothing, merely turned her eyes away, Vanora gasped. "I knew it. I knew those marks on you did not come from a tumble in the stables," she said with a shake of her head. "Does Tristan know something as well?" she pried further, eyebrows furrowing together.

Breck's eyes shot to hers in surprise – what made Vanora automatically link Tristan to this?

When the other woman saw her reaction, she rolled her eyes. "Do not think me daft, Breck," Vanora said with a pointed look. "I was not nearly as inebriated as the men, nor as oblivious. I saw Tristan follow you out of the tavern and I saw the change in the pair of you when you both returned. Something happened while you two were away. Something must have happened with Gerland!"

Breck was trying very hard not to feel irritated with Vanora. This was one of those times where she wished the woman wasn't so perceptive, because the last thing she wanted to do was stand in the middle of the road and relay all the knitty-gritty details of the previous night's events. Especially because word was spreading fast, and with Vanora flustering about the way she was, it was beginning to draw attention, which would only fuel the rumor mill. All Breck wanted to do was get to Arthur and explain the situation before anyone else got to him first. Currently, Vanora and her incessant need for information were standing in the way of that.

"Vanora, I do not have time to discuss this now," Breck said firmly, trying to make her exit from the conversation. Vanora started to say something in response, but Breck held a hand up to silence her. "Excuse me, but I have much more important matters to attend to. I will speak to you later."

And then she went brushing past the woman before she could say anything in response and without another look backward.

Breck continued on, trying not to think about how confused and hurt Vanora had looked as she resumed the trek toward Arthur's estate. She knew she was being rude and that her dismissal had hurt Vanora's feelings, but between the attack and the sleepless night that had followed, Breck simply could not find the mental capacity to feel guilty about it in that moment. Oh, she'd feel plenty guilty later once she had spoken to Arthur and put the incident behind her for good, that much she knew already. But at the moment, her only concern was to get to Arthur and hope that the bad news had not reached him before she could.

OOO

Breck found Arthur in his council room, looking sleepy-eyed and hungover as he started in on a large breakfast, all while trying to read through some messages that must have come from Rome. He looked up when she was let in by one of his servants, a smile working its way onto his face despite the obvious pain he was feeling after celebrating much too hard the previous night.

Breck determined right then and there that Arthur hadn't heard about Gerland's body being found yet, not if he was so calm and smiling at her like that.

"Good morning, my friend. You appear to be faring much better than I am thus far," he greeted, his voice scratchy and thick. He must have only just woken up.

Breck stepped further into the room, deciding to stick with her original plan to just be blunt. "Gerland is dead," she blurted out. "So are his cronies."

Arthur froze, his green eyes unblinking as he stared at her, as if his foggy mind could not comprehend what he had just heard. "What?"

Breck sucked in a deep breath, then told him everything. How Gerland and his men had cornered her when she had gone to the stables alone, how she had tried – and failed – to fight her way free, how Tristan had shown up and come to her rescue, and how they had ultimately killed all three men.

The revelation made Arthur stare at her in shock for a good few minutes. Then, when his mind finally caught up and the words actually sunk in, he stood abruptly from his seat and went to the door, storming right past where Breck stood. She watched his back warily as he yanked the door open and located a servant who must have been passing by.

"Inform Tristan to come to my council room. Now," he snapped, then just as abruptly slammed the door shut.

He went storming back toward the Round Table, shoving a hand through his already messy hair. Breck's brows pinched together as she watched him begin to pace. "Arthur – " she began to say.

He held up a hand, silently indicating for her to be quiet. Breck clamped her lips together, watching as he continued to pace back and forth, like an angry animal eager to burst free from a cage. Finally, he rounded on her, his eyes burning with anger.

"Why did you go to the stables alone?" he demanded. "You knew that vile man had set his sights on you! You knew the danger! And yet, you still chose to venture out on your own, while the entire town was too preoccupied and too drunk to assist you! It was reckless and foolish and completely careless!" he shouted as he resumed pacing the room, angrier than she had ever seen him before.

Breck winced at his loud tone. Perhaps approaching Arthur about the attack and revealing the death of Gerland when he was hungover – and before he'd had the chance to consume breakfast, no less – might have been a slight error in judgment. Maybe she should have waited for someone else to tell him first, after all.

Arthur came to stand in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest, and if she hadn't been worried that it would lead to him strangling her with his bare hands, she would have laughed at the sight he presented. His curly hair was sticking in all directions, wild from sleep and from running his hands through it in agitation. His clothes that morning had been hastily thrown on and were mismatched, and she swore she could see a few suspicious looking dark marks on his neck that could have only been made by the lips of a woman. She'd never seen Arthur in such a frumpy, shambled state.

The glare he had fixed on her at the moment, however, was all fury and business and made her quickly forget any humor she might've felt. Instead, being on the end of that withering glare left Breck wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her.

"Where was your intelligence? What were you thinking?" he growled at her, still not done yelling just yet.

"I – " Breck started to say.

"Do not speak!" he interrupted harshly, raising a firm hand to silence her.

She immediately snapped her mouth shut and nodded, waiting for whatever he would say next in obedient silence. Normally, this type of lecture from anyone would have set her anger off by now – Breck did not like being shouted at or talked down to, both of which Arthur was currently doing. But she did her very best to rein in her temper and hamper down the urge to snap back at him, knowing fully well that fighting back would only make it worse.

"For the first time throughout the duration of our friendship, I am truly disappointed in you, Breck," Arthur finally sighed, rubbing his forehead in agitation. "You promised me that you would be careful. You promised me that you would always have someone with you. And yet, what do you do? Go against your own word and put yourself directly in harm's way, that is what!" His anger was rising again, as was the volume of his voice. "What if Tristan had not shown? What if you had been left to the mercy of those men?" He shook his head and heaved again. "I believed you a skilled fighter, a smart woman – have I been mistaken all this time?"

Breck blinked at his insulting words and immediately felt herself lose some of the grip that she had on her temper. "I am smart and I can fight," she said in her own defense, eyebrows stitched together in displeasure. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, what happened last night was not solely my fault," she reminded him. "They were the ones who attacked me. They targeted me."

"But you should not have been alone in the first place, then they would not have had a chance to get close to you," Arthur countered.

"And why should I alter my life because of some disgusting, pigheaded man?" she demanded, her patience slipping even further. "Ever since I learned of Gerland's threats, I have done what I could to protect myself. I have kept myself armed. I have kept myself aware of my surroundings. Whether it was one of the knights, or Jols, or Vanora, or even Devran, I have ensured that somebody I knew was with me as often as possible. But if I wish to be alone, to take a mere walk to the stables, I should be able to!"

"Not when there is someone with ill intentions targeting you!" Arthur argued stubbornly. "You should have been more careful. If Tristan had not shown – "

"No one is more aware than I am of what would have happened if Tristan had not shown," she interrupted, which only seemed to irritate Arthur even more. "This would have happened sooner or later, and we both know that. This could have happened while you men were away and there was no one there to help, but it did not. Aye, the situation was bad, but it could have been much worse."

Arthur scoffed incredulously. "This is supposed to appease me?" he asked with a scowl.

"It was supposed to help you see reason," Breck retorted.

"See reason?" he asked with a dark laugh. "You wish me to reward you for your naïveté?"

"I am not naïve," Breck said in a warning tone, her temper struggling to break free. She tried to tell herself that Arthur was likely only angry because the incident between her and Gerland had scared and upset him, but his words and his behavior were starting to border on offensive.

"Your ignorance, then?" he offered next in that same, mocking, condescending tone.

"For heaven's sake, Arthur! It is not as though I asked for three men to try to rape me!" she finally snapped, losing all patience entirely. "Should I have been accompanied by somebody? Yes. Should I have been more aware of my surroundings? Yes. But beyond that, what happened last night was not my fault!" Breck threw her hands up in utter frustration. "Are you even relieved that I am alright?"

Arthur gave her a very hard glare at that. "How dare you ask me such a question? Of course I am relieved!"

"You have a very odd way of showing it," Breck said with a scoff.

Arthur pointed a finger at her. "Save your sarcasm for another time. I have no patience for it at this moment!" he said loudly.

"And I have no more patience for this conversation!" she rebutted, equally as loud.

They most assuredly would have continued arguing, but in the next moment, the sound of the door to the council room opening caught the attention of them both. They both looked to the door, where Tristan had just entered and was now slowly closing the door behind him. He did not move further into the room, clasping his hands together in front of him and standing at attention as he waited to be called forth. He kept a careful eye on them, however, and she thought he looked just a touch awkward. Likely because he had been able to hear their shouting match from the hallway.

The interruption gave them both a moment to take a breath, to come back to themselves and think clearly again.

"Tristan," Arthur said, his tone a little calmer as he addressed his scout. "You arrived swifter than expected."

"I was on my way to speak with you already when your servant found me," he said. Breck could only guess he had come to do what she had already done.

Arthur nodded. "Come forward," he beckoned.

Tristan came to join them, stopping a few feet away from where Breck stood. He spared her a glance, then looked to Arthur.

As they stood there in silence for a moment, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

What if their actions last night meant that they had to be punished? They had, after all, killed three men, and there had been no witnesses around to attest to the fact that it had all been done out of self-defense. Breck tensed and shifted her gaze back to Arthur, her anger suddenly replaced with uneasiness. She and Tristan were Arthur's friends, yes, but even so she understood he was not allowed to be biased in situations like these. Breck would bravely accept her fate if Arthur were forced to sentence her for her crime, but the thought of Tristan facing punishment because he had been forced to come to her rescue did not sit well with her. Not in the slightest.

Arthur sighed heavily, his brows knitting together in a stern expression. "I have heard from Breck what transpired already, but I wish to hear about the events of last night from your perspective."

Tristan glanced at her again. "Being fully aware of Gerland and his intentions, and given the amount of drink involved last night, I thought it wise to follow her when she left for the stables, to ensure no harm found her," he explained. Breck was glad at least one of them had been clear headed enough to remember that Gerland had had it out for her. "When I caught up to her, Gerland and two others had cornered her and she was trying to fight her way free. I intervened when it became clear she would not escape," he finished simply.

"And killing them was the only way to stop the crime from happening?" Arthur asked.

Breck cringed at the question. Perhaps killing them hadn't been completely necessary – they could have just incapacitated the men and brought them to the guard to be dealt with that way. But in the heat of the moment, that had never crossed her mind as a possibility. Evidently, it hadn't crossed Tristan's either.

"We merely matched their aggression," Tristan said.

Arthur nodded and began pacing again, his eyes pensive as he processed the new information. Breck wanted to say something to Tristan, perhaps apologize for the mess she had gotten him into, but she couldn't manage to get the words out. She just kept imagining Tristan in some dingy little cell somewhere, chained to a wall and left there to rot simply because he'd had to help her out of a bad situation. The visual made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Arthur – " Breck started to say, having decided to plead Tristan's case and try to get him out of this predicament.

Arthur held a hand up to silence her once more, then came to a halt in front of them. He looked first at Breck, then at Tristan. "My friend," he said, speaking to his scout, "I have many thanks to bestow upon you for your services to Breck these past few weeks. If not for you, the ill fates that sought her out surely would have reached their target much sooner. Thank you," Arthur said, nodding.

Tristan inclined his head to his commanding officer, but said nothing.

"As for you, Breck," Arthur continued, turning to her now.

"Allow me to speak for a moment. Please," she cut in, making him pause. When he nodded for her to continue, she sucked in a deep breath. "If punishment is required for the actions this evening past, I ask that only I be the one receiving it," she stated firmly. "Had I gone about things differently, Tristan would never have been involved in the first place." Breck paused, then lifted her chin higher. "If someone must pay for the deaths of Gerland and his men, then I demand that Tristan be cleared of any charges, and that I be the one to bear the brunt of the sentence."

Tristan's eyebrows had risen a tick higher when she chanced a look in his direction, but it was the softening of Arthur's expression that held Breck's interest. It left her feeling cautiously optimistic that maybe things wouldn't turn out as bad as she feared.

"There will be no punishment," Arthur finally said, making Breck immediately release a breath. "Those men were not killed for sport or blood-lust. You were only trying to preserve your own life, and Tristan was only trying to protect you. Such a thing requires no dealings of retribution."

Breck couldn't help but feel relieved, not just that she wasn't going to be punished, but mostly because Tristan wasn't. At least that was one thing that would not have to weigh on her conscious.

Arthur turned his eyes to Tristan. "I have a question to ask of you now, and your answer must be an honest one," he said, to which Tristan nodded. "From what you witnessed, how would you define Breck's fighting skill?"

Breck blinked in surprise, then she and Arthur both looked at Tristan to await his answer. His gaze slid to her once more, and Breck had never hated that impenetrable mask of his more. Finally, he looked back to Arthur.

"She has courage, but I find her skill to be lacking," he said bluntly.

Breck gaped at him, certain that of all the rude things he had said to her since they had met, this was by far the most offensive.

"Pardon?" she asked indignantly.

Tristan did not respond, did not even look at her.

"I see," Arthur said. "Thank you for your honesty."

"If I might interject," Breck said fiercely, which finally made the men look to her. "It seems unfair to judge my skill on one encounter. Especially so considering the circumstances."

Arthur quirked a brow. "The circumstance being?" he prompted.

Breck made a sound of annoyance. "I was intoxicated. I should imagine that most would be lacking under such influence."

Arthur seemed unimpressed and unconvinced. "Be that as it may, I have a new condition to set into place in regards to the deal you and I have made."

Now Breck was confused – Tristan seemed to be too, because she could see him looking back and forth between her and Arthur from the corner of her eye. She knew that Arthur was talking about their pact to slay Cerdic together, of course, but what sort of conditions did he want to set into place? What was he talking about? "Continue," she prompted apprehensively.

"I trust Tristan's judgment, which means I now have…concerns," he said bluntly, immediately making her frown. "The mission that we aim to complete will require a strong, steady blade and firm knowledge in the ways of combat. I feel it best that you capitalize on your time here at the Wall and further hone your skill before the task is upon us."

Breck took a moment to decipher what he was saying. So Arthur didn't think that she was prepared to fight Cerdic then, was that it? Breck felt the need to point out to him, yet again, that her dangerous mission to hunt down Cerdic had meant she'd faced plenty of foes and fought in plenty of skirmishes over the years, but she bit her tongue to keep from doing so.

"What, exactly, is it that you ask of me?" Breck asked slowly.

Arthur looked at her, then at Tristan, then back again. "There are few more skilled at fighting than Tristan. If he agrees, he will take the position as your trainer once his wound has completely healed. He will teach you all that he knows about fighting." Arthur raised his eyebrows at his scout, who didn't show much reaction to the offer placed before him. "What say you, Tristan?"

Breck looked at Tristan, feeling peeved with the turn of events. She knew there was no way to convince Arthur she wasn't a horrible fighter after what Tristan had said, but was this really necessary? She might not have minded so much had Arthur decided to appoint Galahad or Dagonet as her trainer – hell, she would have even accepted Lancelot – but Tristan? They had, quite literally, only just gotten to the point where they were on somewhat friendly terms. The fact that he hadn't strangled her for the trouble she'd already caused him was a miracle in and of itself – now he would be forced to spend his free time training her and preparing her to fight Cerdic?

She hardly imagined that going over well. Not to mention that the thought of sparring with him was as embarrassing as it was daunting. Breck did not wish to think of how mortified she would feel should she wind up making herself look like a fool in front of him.

Maybe he wouldn't agree to it, she thought hopefully. Surely he had better things to do than dedicating even more of his time to helping her when he'd already been doing so for so long.

Unfortunately, her hope was for naught. "I agree," Tristan said with a nod, making her stomach fill with a distinct feeling of dread.

"What of my students?" she asked irritably, reminding her friend of one of the duties he'd already appointed her in the feeble hope it might deter him.

"The lads have progressed well. You are relieved of the duty," Arthur said with a note of finality.

Breck nodded stiffly in defeat. "I ask that you not judge my skill by my performance last night," she insisted, deciding to try a different approach in an attempt to change his mind. She knew that extra practice would only benefit her, but the fact that it would be with Tristan was causing her to feel all sorts of anxiety. She simply did not want to train with him.

"Breck, I am not acting with cruel intentions. I have made this decision more out of precaution than anything else," Arthur said with a heavy sigh. "How much time has passed since you last fought in a battle? Or since you crossed swords with an enemy?"

Breck pursed her lips and said nothing, knowing that the answer would only prove his point. Arthur seemed to read her mind, however, and gave her a knowing look. "You will train with Tristan or I shall retract my assistance in the matter of Cerdic. It is as simple as that."

The normally stoic Tristan suddenly looked uncharacteristically surprised to hear the Saxon's name, and immediately turned a look on her. He obviously had heard of Cerdic before – Galahad had said that most warriors in this part of the world knew of him – but he had been unaware of the fact that Breck had a history with the man. If she thought Tristan would have questions before, now she knew for a fact that he'd want an explanation for this newest revelation.

Seeing no way to get around her friend's request, Breck finally lifted her chin and nodded curtly. "If you so wish it," she conceded, trying not to sound as defeated as she felt.

Arthur nodded then stepped forward to clap Tristan on the shoulder. "Remain here, we have much to discuss," he said.

After Tristan indicated his agreement, Arthur beckoned her to follow him to the door.

Breck's eyes met Tristan's for a few seconds, then she turned to leave with Arthur.

As he shut the door behind her, she wasn't sure whether to expect another lecture, or perhaps more yelling. When he turned to face her, however, his expression was nothing like the one she had seen when they had been arguing. In fact, she could only see regret and apology in his eyes and face.

"I…owe you an apology for my behavior this morning, Breck," he said gently. "My oldest, dearest friend in the world was attacked, and what did I do? Shouted and yelled and belittled you. I was wrong, Breck. I should have offered you a shoulder to lean on, not a lecture," he said with a shake of his head, looking disgusted with himself. "My anger was born out of fear and guilt. Fear that you could have suffered far worse than minor bruises, that this could happen again. Guilt that I was not there to protect you myself, and that I may never be capable of protecting you the way I wish to." Arthur frowned deeply. "I was a poor friend this morning, and I am truly sorry."

The heartfelt apology immediately extinguished any lingering anger that might have been burning in her veins. She had never been able to stay angry at kind, noble Arthur for long, no matter the circumstance.

"You are forgiven," she said, which made the tension in his shoulders ease. "I understand your fear, but I implore you not to wallow in any guilt. What happened was beyond our control, and the unfortunate truth is that there will always be Gerland's in the world. You cannot protect me from them all, nor would I expect you to."

"But it is my duty to – " he started to protest.

"Your only duty is to be the kind, wonderful friend that you have always been. And in that respect, you have succeeded to the highest degree," she reassured him with a gentle smile.

"Even though I yelled at you?" he asked with a quirked brow.

Breck had to smirk a little. "As it so happens, you are not quite as intimidating when hungover." She gave him a pointed once over. "Have you seen yourself this morning, Arthur?" she asked with amusement.

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. "I am well aware that I must look as horridly as I feel. I saw no point in allowing a mirror to prove that to me," he said.

Breck laughed, which pulled a small smile from Arthur. After the moment had passed, she looked to the door and let out a long sigh, the smile on her face falling. "I am not overjoyed with your newest order, Arthur," she outright admitted, frowning at him.

"Yes, I know," Arthur said, unsurprised. "But trust me when I say the decision was made for your benefit. Tristan is the best warrior I know. The knowledge and skill you will gain from training with him will be invaluable."

Seeing as the man in question had been the primary reason for her recent emotional turmoil, she wasn't so convinced this arrangement would be to her benefit. Likely they would end up killing one another. Or at the very least, trying to.

"I hope you are right," she finally said, letting her expression and tone betray how utterly unconvinced she was.

Arthur just smirked a little first, then let out a long sigh. "I will need to tell Tristan about your history with Cerdic, as well as our mission," he said slowly. "I will avoid divulging too much detail about your family, but…some revelations will be unavoidable. Just know that I will attempt to respect your privacy as much as possible."

Breck nodded, knowing that Tristan would certainly need to know more information, but also grateful to Arthur for his attempt to at least keep some of the more personal details of her history a secret. "Of course," she said. "I understand." After a pause, she gave him a curious look. "What do you intend to do about this matter with Gerland and his men? Word is spreading quickly, and it is only a matter of time before rumors of all manner will begin to circulate."

Arthur frowned to himself. "Gerland has no family here, so far as I know. He has not even lived at the Wall for much longer than a year. I doubt he and his men shall be missed. Yet, I do not want the townsfolk to spread misinformation, either." He thought on it for a moment, then nodded. "I will call for a town meeting in the square this afternoon, where I shall explain what happened. Hopefully that should be enough to dispel any rumors that have begun making the rounds."

Breck nodded. "I think that would be wise."

Arthur gave a small smile that seemed a little grim, likely because his eyes had fallen to the bruise on her jaw, then the cut on her neck. He then stepped forward to pull her into a tight embrace, the warmth and security she felt from him an immediate balm over the lingering pains, both physical and mental, from the night before.

"I am unendingly relieved that you are alright," he said. "And immensely satisfied to know that Gerland and his men met painful ends by yours and Tristan's blades."

Breck let out a heavy breath, pushing away the memories from the last night. Now that Arthur knew, now that it was done with, she just wanted to forget it had ever happened. "As am I," she said in response.

When he released her, he gave her a quick kiss against her hairline before taking a step back. "I should go speak to Tristan. I will see you later?"

Breck nodded, and after that, Arthur inclined his head and went back into the council room. Once the door shut, Breck let out another long sigh, shook her head, then left.

OOO

The town was much more active as Breck left Arthur's estate and started off toward the stables, as was her normal routine. With more people out and about, it was easy to see that word had indeed been spreading very quickly – several people she walked past were clustered together, whispering behind their hands to each other or gesturing animatedly as they talked in low voices. As she passed by, she heard Gerland's name mentioned more than once.

Breck couldn't help but feel paranoid as she made her way through town. Did the townsfolk know she had been involved? Certainly they couldn't. She doubted Gerland had told everyone in town what he had planned to try to do to her. The only way anyone could suspect anything was either if Vanora had told people – which, even given how gossipy she was, Breck didn't think Vanora would do that to her – or if someone had seen what had happened after all.

She finally braved a glance around, but felt herself relax when she saw no strange looks being sent in her direction. Not yet, anyway. Surely once Arthur addressed the townsfolk, everyone would know that she and Tristan had been involved. There was no telling how people would react when the truth came out, but she found she didn't care. What she and Tristan had done had been out of self-defense – she knew that, and the people who mattered knew that, and that was good enough for her.

Breck continued along, her attention shifting from the whispering townsfolk to thoughts of Tristan. Arthur was right – now that Tristan was going to be training her how to fight, he would need to know the reason for why she was fighting in the first place, which meant there was really no avoiding her past finally being revealed to him. She found herself wondering how he would react to the revelation that she was Saxon, and that her family had once been linked to King Cerdic. Galahad was the only one who knew so far, and he had reacted well enough. But that was Galahad. He was her friend through and through, so of course he would be understanding.

Tristan was different. He was unreadable and unpredictable, and there was really no telling what he would make of it all. Would learning of her true heritage make his perception of her change? Would he think less of her? Would he shun her for her family's history?

Breck didn't see how he would have any room to judge her. Tristan had a reputation of his own around Hadrian's Wall. She had heard people say he was bloodthirsty, that he was fearsome, that he could be downright barbaric at times. He was a feared man around town, his disinterest and indifference of those around him making him appear cold and cruel. Breck had literally seen, with her own two eyes, children running away at the mere sight of him.

He was no monster, of course, that she knew well enough. Many in the town had incorrectly judged him without even knowing him, and though she did not know if this bothered him or not – she had a feeling it didn't – she hoped that meant that maybe he would not be quick to judge others. For all their differences and petty squabbles in the past, something deep down told her that he wouldn't. But Breck still found herself saying a quick prayer that this would not deter the progress that she had been making with the scout.

He had only just started being cordial to her – the last thing she wanted was for him to revert back into his resentful shell. Especially if he was going to take up a sword against her on a regular basis.

"Breck!" a voice suddenly called through the crowd, pulling her from her thoughts.

Breck stopped and turned to see who was calling for her, then spotted Gawain dodging his way around townspeople as he tried to catch up with her. She hoped in vain that maybe he hadn't heard the news yet and was just coming to say hello, but when he broke free of the crowd and she saw the expression on his face, Breck knew that was not the case.

Gawain finally reached her, looking as worried as he did angry. "Good morning, Gawain," she greeted slowly.

"Why did you not inform me of Gerland?" Gawain demanded bluntly, not bothering to dance around the subject. "Why did you not tell me what happened?"

Breck sighed and shook her head, fairly confident he could have gotten his information from only one person. "You have seen Vanora then?" she asked knowingly. He nodded once in confirmation, which made her sigh again before shrugging. "The situation had been handled," she told him. "I saw no need to cause anybody unnecessary worry."

"Unnecessary worry?" Gawain spluttered in disbelieve. "He attacked you! And you let us believe your injuries were because of clumsiness!" he continued in exasperation, motioning to the bruise on her jaw and the line of red on her neck from Gerland's blade. "You could have been killed!" he pointed out.

"I am all too aware, Gawain," Breck said with forced patience, his lecture sounding eerily similar to the one she'd just received from Arthur. "I am sure all of Britain is aware, Arthur was shouting it so loud," she added dryly.

Gawain was not amused. "Breck…" he said with a heavy sigh, oozing disapproval.

"Gawain, I am fine," Breck reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm and looking to him with serious eyes so he would know she was telling the truth. "Gerland is dead and is of no further threat to me. Aye, he may have landed a few hits," she admitted, which made Gawain's frown deepen. "But trust me when I say that it is nothing I cannot handle. I have suffered far worse in the past."

The anger finally started to leave Gawain's gaze, but he still shook his head unhappily. "I should have listened to my instincts. I should have gone with you to the stables," he said gruffly. "If I had, this never would have come to pass."

"On the contrary, it would have," Breck told him gently. "Only it would have been when you and the men were gone, and then I truly might have been in real danger. Odd as it may sound…perhaps it was better this way," she said, hoping that would make Gawain stop blaming himself for something that had been out of his control.

It seemed to appease him somewhat, but not much. "Tell me what happened," he urged. "I want to know."

Breck nodded and motioned him to walk with her so they could get out of the middle of the road and away from prying ears. As Gawain fell into step beside her, walking so close that his arm brushed hers every so often, Breck told him everything that had happened. All the while Gawain listened intently, brows furrowed with anger. When she mentioned Tristan, however, she couldn't help but notice something shifting in his blue-eyed gaze.

"It was fortunate that Tristan showed when he did," Breck said in conclusion, thoughts swirling with images of the scout in question. "If not for him…" She trailed off and shook her head. "I will be in his debt for a long while to come."

"You attract trouble like Lancelot attracts women," Gawain said wryly, shaking his head. Breck had to crack a smile at the comparison. "I am glad you did not suffer worse," he said in a more serious tone, his hand finding hers to give it a squeeze. "And I am glad those men are finally dealt with."

"As am I," Breck agreed.

Gawain made no move to release her hand, so, after a moment or two, Breck cleared her throat and gently pulled away from him. He made no comment about it, and they proceeded to walk in silence for a few minutes. When Breck looked at him, he was frowning to himself and looking deep in thought, as if something was still bothering him.

"What is on your mind?"

Gawain blinked as if coming back to the present, glanced at her, then turned his eyes forward again. "You and Tristan…" he finally said. "Things seem…different between you two."

Gawain had never been a hard man to read, but in that moment, he appeared to have taken a leaf out of Tristan's book. Breck was finding it very difficult to determine what the expression on his face meant.

It was no secret that she and Tristan usually couldn't be in the same place at the same time without arguing or bickering at one another. But there had been a change between them after that last argument. Between her stitching his wound after he had been injured and the events of the previous night, things had been different. They had been getting along better, and they had actually been cordial to one another at the party, both before the attack and especially so afterwards.

"Yes, I supposed they are," Breck agreed. "I believe Tristan and I have finally reached…an understanding," she explained.

Gawain looked to her curiously. "You are friends then?"

That was a very good question. Was Tristan her friend? He certainly wasn't her enemy, that she knew for a fact, but she wasn't convinced they had reached a point where they could actually refer to each other as friends.

"I think saying we are friends would be too generous," she said with a shrug. "But I am cautiously optimistic that our days of constant bickering are behind us, and that perhaps, in the future, friendship may be possible."

Again, Gawain nodded before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

Breck eyed him as a slightly awkward silence passed between them. She wasn't sure what to make of his reaction, but she knew that she didn't like it. It seemed like this new shift in her and Tristan's relationship was bothering him. Was he angry that she and Tristan were potentially on a path to friendship? Was he…jealous?

Breck frowned at that. Being jealous would mean there would have to be something between her and Tristan to be jealous of. Certainly a few civil conversations and one night of friendliness couldn't cause such a reaction, right? She was friends with all the other men, and that didn't bother Gawain – she was very affectionate with a few of them, too, but still Gawain never seemed to mind it.

So why would her potentially being friends with Tristan be a problem? Sure, she was attracted to Tristan, which certainly would make Gawain unhappy if he found out about it. But she had not been treating Tristan any differently than she treated the other men, nor did she expect that anything would ever progress past friendship between them.

Was there something else that she didn't know about? Had she missed something? Or was she just misreading the situation entirely and massively overthinking it?

Breck decided she must have been reading into it too much. Or, at least, that was the easier option to believe. If Gawain was jealous of Tristan for some reason, that could potentially put a strain on their friendship, and that was not something she wanted to happen. They had been friends long before she had ever even thought about coming back to the Wall, and she did not want to be the reason for complicating things.

Breck decided that maybe it was time to put a little distance between herself and Gawain, just for the time being. "I should go to the stables," Breck finally said to end the strange silence that had fallen over them. "Jols will be expecting me, I am sure."

Gawain nodded and the troubling expression finally left his handsome face. "Do you wish me to escort you?" he asked.

"Thank you, but do not trouble yourself," Breck gently declined, offering a small smile. "I will be fine."

Gawain hesitated, then nodded again. "I will see you later, then."

Breck nodded and turned to start toward the stables, but Gawain's voice made her pause. "And Breck?" She turned to him and raised her eyebrows in silent question. "If you are ever in trouble, you can always rely on me for help," Gawain told her earnestly. "You know that, yes?"

Breck had to smile, touched by his words and his obvious concern for her safety. "Aye, Gawain, I do," she assured him with a nod. "Do not fret over the events of last night. It is over and done with, and never shall I allow such an instance to occur again. I promise you that," she stated firmly.

That seemed to finally satisfy him. Gawain nodded, then turned to head off in the other direction. She watched him go until he disappeared into the crowd, then sighed to herself.

If she had not been certain of it already, there would have been no more room for denial after that conversation with him – Gawain definitely had feelings for her that were more than just the friendly sort. With his recent advances, his apparent protectiveness, and possible jealousy over her evolving relationship with Tristan, it was all too obvious. It occurred to Breck that this was something that probably should have pleased her, or at least made her feel excited. He was a good man, and she had been attracted to him since their first meeting – it should have made her happy to know that the feeling was reciprocated.

But try as she might, she simply could not push Tristan from her thoughts. There was just something about him, something that even she could not fully explain or understand yet. Something that was drawing her to him in a way that she was not drawn to Gawain.

Breck shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued on to the stables.

There were more important things to be worrying about besides men and romance, she told herself firmly, like the fact that she was about to start training to fight Cerdic and would soon be at Tristan's mercy.

She shivered just thinking about it, already certain that the Sarmatian scout was not going to go easy on her. He was ruthless and unyielding in everyday life as it was – there was no doubt that once he had recovered and was training her, she was going to be in for a tough time.

All Breck could hope for now was that he wouldn't end up killing her in the process.

OOO

The rest of the morning passed by quickly, and it was shockingly normal. Breck worked in the stables with Jols and Devran, tending to the horses and making friendly conversation as she normally did. If not for the minor aches in her body from where she had been hit, and if not for the few dark stains on the ground outside that Tristan had not quite been able to cover up the night before, Breck might have been able to forget the attack had ever even happened.

Of course, it proved absolutely impossible to forget it when the rest of the men finally found out and came to see her.

Galahad was the first to come hurrying to the stables to find her, where he gave her a huge hug and told her over and over again how sorry he was that she had been attacked, and that he had not been there to help her. He had tried to shoulder the blame, insisting that if he had never challenged her to a throwing match that she would have never been placed in danger to begin with, but she had very quickly insisted that it was not his fault and she would not tolerate him blaming himself. Even if he verbally agreed with her in the end, something in his expression hinted that he still blamed himself anyway.

Lancelot and Bors arrived shortly after, both of them oddly serious for once as they made certain she was alright and then proceeded to proclaim that they would not be letting anything like this happen again. I will bloody well run any man through a dozen times over if they so much as look at you funny, Bors had said loudly. Let everyone at Hadrian's Wall know that Breck is our lady, and any who dares to attempt such a thing again will taste Sarmatian steel! Lancelot and Galahad had been very inclined to agree with him, and Breck was so touched by how much they cared that she couldn't even find it in herself to be bothered by their overprotectiveness.

She was bothered, however, when Dagonet finally turned up and demanded she come back with him to the infirmary at once so that he could assess her injuries now that he knew it was from an attack and not a mere moment of clumsiness. Thinking it completely unnecessary and having never been one who was comfortable being fussed over, Breck did her best to insist that she was fine and convince him she did not need to be looked over. But Dagonet would not take no for an answer, and the men all but threatened to carry her there themselves if she didn't go, so she had little choice in the end.

Breck went to the infirmary with Dagonet, where he sat her down and gently took stock of her injuries, inspecting the places where she had been hit for any potential breaks in her bones and even going so far as to clean the cut on her neck, despite it being nothing more than a superficial scratch. He did not speak as he worked, but she could see the concern plain as day in his expression, could see a tell-tale hint of guilt in his eyes, as if he too blamed himself for not doing enough to protect her.

Any annoyance she had felt at Dagonet's insistence on treating wounds that really didn't need treating soon disappeared, and she instead was filled with gratitude and fondness for him, as well as the rest of the men. She couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have friends who cared so much.

By the time Dagonet finally finished, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze and demanding she come to him if she felt any pain whatsoever, everyone who lived at Hadrian's Wall had started being shepherded to the square to hear Arthur's address to the town. Breck headed that way with Dagonet, who stood tall and alert next to her as though he were a sentry, but broke away from him to find a shadowy place to occupy toward the edge of the crowd once they reached the square. As soon as Arthur told everyone what had happened, she knew she'd be getting more attention than she wanted. Being somewhere that she wouldn't easily be spotted seemed the wise decision.

Breck crossed her arms as Arthur stood up on the same stage the musicians had used at his party and revealed to the townsfolk what had happened the night before. How Gerland and his men had attacked her, how she had been forced to fight back, how Tristan had come to her rescue. She only listened with half an ear, her eyes scanning the crowd for the reaction to the news. Most seemed surprised, some looked disturbed, but others were harder to read. She wondered if they believed what Arthur was saying, or if they thought he was covering for her and for Tristan since they were his friends.

There was suddenly a presence on her right, a familiar scent coming to her nose. Breck looked that way and was unsurprised to see Tristan standing next to her, his eyes turned toward Arthur. She felt her spine tense, keenly aware of all that he now knew, and a little wary to learn what he might think of it.

"So Arthur told you everything," Breck eventually said to break the silence, her voice quiet so as not to draw attention from anyone else.

"Everything he deemed necessary for me to know," Tristan confirmed.

She looked at him when he said nothing further. She should have known better than to expect him to elaborate. "And?"

Tristan kept looking forward. "And what?" he said simply.

Breck frowned. "Do you not have an opinion?"

Tristan hesitated, as if taking a moment to consider his answer. "It is not my duty to have an opinion," he finally said. "My only duty is to prepare you for Cerdic."

It was a very diplomatic answer, one that gave no hint as to how he truly felt on the matter of her past, and one that only left her with more questions and doubts. Whether he did have an opinion, only he just didn't want to share it with her, or he truly didn't care, she couldn't say. But she knew better than to try to pry anything out of Tristan. If he didn't want to talk about it, then he wasn't going to talk about it. And that was that.

Breck sighed and turned her eyes forward again, listening on for a few moments as Arthur kept addressing the crowd. As she pushed away her curiosity over Tristan and his thoughts on her past, a nagging question that had been circling her mind since that morning came back to her. One that she now had to ask him, just so that she could understand.

"When you said you would rid of the bodies, I thought you meant to put them some place…discreet," she said. "How were they discovered so quickly?"

"Because I left them where I knew they would be found," Tristan answered without hesitation.

Breck blinked at him in surprise. "Why?" she asked with confusion.

Tristan finally looked down at her, that stoic expression never budging, but something she couldn't quite name sparking in his eyes. "So that everyone in Hadrian's Wall now knows what will happen to anyone who makes the mistake of attacking you."

Breck found herself swallowing hard at those words, her heart giving a quick little jolt. She could not think of anything to say in response, so they merely stood there looking at one another in tense silence. Finally, Tristan looked away and turned to leave.

"I will call on you when our training is to begin. Be ready," he said in a tone that seemed ominous to her.

Breck merely nodded once, then watched as Tristan walked away. It wasn't until he disappeared from sight completely that she felt like her lungs could work properly again.

See you next Friday!